


Still No Cure for the Common Cold

by orphan_account



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Common Cold, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Romance, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 10:05:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19423753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A bit of cultural miscommunication.When Laila Ryder comes down with a case of the Common Cold, Jaal of course is concerned for his poorly Human girlfriend. He has, after all, lost one love to illness.And it would seem, perhaps, fate would see him loose another, likewise."Perhaps Doctor T'Perro could be of assistance?"She smiled again. Putting a brave face on it, he supposed, as she said, “Lexi probably has something that can help symptom wise, but uh…as many miraculous advancements we’ve made with medical science, there’s still no cure for the common cold.”...no...no cure."I...I see."But he really doesn't. So, light angsty fluff ensues as Jaal braces to comfort his love until she meets her fated end at the treacherous hands of the incurable Common Cold.Obvs, happy ending.And an ending that's happy!





	Still No Cure for the Common Cold

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing! Just a dumb little One Shot I thought about at random while the idea that Angara are so private about physical illness was floating around in my brain, and the idea that hearing about something incurable might imply that the Common Cold could be something deadly to poor, sweet Jaal.

Jaal Ama Darav was no stranger to heartbreak. And illness…illness had taken the love of his life before*. Aya was the epitome of living for Angara, their healthcare far surpassed any they could replicate on their lesser worlds, Voeld, Havarl—personal illness was…private, not to be spoken of or shared, that ones body was malfunctioning—he was fearful anytime he bore witness to symptoms of ailment in those he loved. They would never outright confess, and were unlikely to be able to receive the quick, certain care equal to that Aya’s health center could provide, it may well be their undoing. When his first love fell ill, everything happened so suddenly, it was almost in the same breath that told him she was sick, that he learned she had passed.

Humans were very different in this regard. And this time, he could do things differently. It would hurt, his heart would ache, quite possibly for the remainder of his days, at the loss of Laila Ryder, but he would always be grateful to have known her.

It started late one afternoon aboard the Tempest. Jaal had been in the Cargo Bay, studying schematics for an upgrade to the Nomad the Pathfinder picked up on Kadara. She asked Jaal’s opinion on the upgrade, before letting Gil and Liam get wild with installing it. While what the Humans would term ‘sketchy’ in origins, it was a sound investment from what Jaal could tell, a vast improvement to their shields.

“Jaal?”

There was something off from the start, a slight catch in her throat when she said his name.

The term he learned for it later sounded extremely accurate. ‘Scratchy’.

“Pathfinder,” he greeted warmly, “I’ve completed my examination of your proposed upgrade. It is safe, I could even assist in its installation.” This ‘Thrasia’ may have been…disingenuous, in her dealings insofar as her exclusive insight on the location of the weapons cache was concerned, but the Nomad wasn’t likely to experience unforeseen malfunction from the upgrades she peddled.

She smiled. Oh, he did love her smile—Humans had far less molars than Angara, their front teeth were almost Adhi sharp, they out in out had fangs some of them, it seemed, and the gesture used to be interpreted as threatening…in some circumstances, it was, especially from the Krogan, Drack. Laila’s smile was always striking, the whiteness of her teeth contrasting off the dusk of her skin, freckled like starlight against the sky. Human skin was so different from Angara, thinner it seemed, so very soft, delicate almost. While he’d come to learn that only meant it healed faster, still, he worried for his Human and Asari counterparts in battle—Angaran skin was dense, almost an armor all its own, humans could emulate it with thick leather armor they used in days long past, and Krogans, Turians, they seemed born with plate armor attached.

He’d come to learn humanity was a delicate thing.

“Thanks,” she said, breathing a tired sigh of relief as she wrenched a hand at the back of her neck, massaging, “I really appreciate it.” and then this look came over her face, dark eyes squinting for all of second before she stepped back and away from him, turning to face the opposite direction, burying her face in the crook of her arm and then her body heaved, sending her leaning forward with such force he feared she might fall as this loud, startling sound came from…her? her mouth? Her nose? It sounded like she struggled with the next breath, this clogged sounding ‘ugh’ escaping her lips- was- what?

_What is a sneeze?_ He asked Cora once*, when she described Biotics feeling like a ‘really big sneeze’. Now he’d seen a perfect example, he was almost certain he knew now exactly the sort of feeling the Pathfinder’s second in command had been describing.

It did not seem pleasant.

“Laila?” he asked softly, uncertain…should he look away? Sneezing, it was a symptom of some illness, was it not? She’d turned away from him, perhaps he’d been mistaken—Cora had made it seem utterly bizarre that Angara were so private with physical illness, but maybe it wasn’t so strange after all.

“Oof,” Liam offered, he’d rolled out from under the Nomad at the sound like he was looking for its source, laying back on what they termed a ‘creeper’ this board with wheels on it that allowed them to slide under their machinery with ease, “that was intense—you need tissues for your issues, Pathfinder?”

“I think I need a bath,” she lamented lightly. Jesting?

“You just gave yourself and the cargo bay a nice _snot_ shower,” Liam returned, as he rose up and disappeared into his room momentarily to fetch the apparently necessary tissues. Ahh, yes, jesting. So…so this was nothing that needed hidden, he supposed, maybe it was nothing serious? They certainly made it seem that way when old worry niggled away at his nerves, just- it was- his mother would be appalled if he ever posed such a question at her, or if she were here to witness this, but Angaran taboo aside,

“Are you ill, Laila?” Jaal asked. His heart sort of startled in his chest when Liam handed her white papery fabric she began…breathing into? Forcefully, through her nose even though it did not sound like it was currently letting much air pass through such a way—she leaned forward with the effort as she blew from her nose, covered with this cloth that caught…thick, gunky substance, that certainly did not look like it should be in a person…or coming from them, was it some sort of blood? How many different sorts of fluids did Humans have? They had a greater need of hydration than most races Jaal had encountered from the initiative, for all they were solid, they were apparently mostly made of water.

She breathed in, sniffling as she looked to him, was she crying? Her eyes were watery but she…he was usually able to tell if she were sad, even if she lacked the tears that usually accompanied human sadness…or anger…or happiness? For all they needed water they had a great many ways to expel it from their bodies. She didn’t _seem s_ ad, she even offered up a wry grin, “I _might_ be coming down with a cold.”

… “You are feeling cold?” he questioned, she had not exhibited such behavior on Voeld, but perhaps the warmth of the Nomad and heating lamps, and their suits had kept such things at bay. And the Cargo Bay was boiling hot, it felt like to Jaal, uncomfortably so, what with their being so close to the energy source that ran the Tempest, and all the different machinery running all at once, the Nomad's engine would still be ablaze to the touch since it had not been terribly long since they brought it back in.

She smiled gently, the way she did when she was about to explain something simple that got lost in translation due to either a fault in their translators, or merely because of their vastly differing cultures, “A cold is sickness—it’s viral but SAM assures me I’m not contagious.”

_There is a 98.23% probability you will not pass on your contagion, Pathfinder._ SAM's voice sounded in the Cargo Bay.

“Oh man, that’s rough,” Liam sympathized, reaching out to rest a hand on her forehead, did she like having her forehead touched? She seemed to enjoy it when Jaal pressed his lips to it, he wasn’t certain if the move was a sexual one on the Human man’s part, but apparently it was to garner if, “you feel warm, Lai. Try to get some rest, okay? We’re not reaching the Nexus for a few rotations, Kallo and Gil are still bickering about some nonsense with the drive core, we’re just barely coasting right now.”

“…a good Pathfinder would try to mediate their argument and get us running at 13 lightyears FTL* as soon as possible…”

“…a great one would recognize that colds are killer and you’re no good to us if you’re hacking and sneezing all over the place,” Liam was certain.

Jaal’s brow furrowed at that, “The Pathfinder’s hacking abilities are superb, a testament to her training, and have helped us endlessly in the field.”

Liam leveled him a big toothy grin, resting a warm hand on Jaal’s shoulder, “Not this kind of hacking, babe. Coughing up a lung isn’t going to help us much,” _coughing up a lung?!_ He- he mentioned such a horrific possibility so very calmly, almost jovially as he looked to Laila, “go on, we can get by just fine without you babysitting us. We’ll play nice—hell, put money on it, and I’ll bet you I can get Peebee and Lexi to hug.”

“I’ll let you keep your credits, thanks,” Laila said, “but yeah, I uh, think I will lay down.” She certainly should if it would prevent her from expelling vital organs, how- how was a lung even to escape her? 'Cough up' implied through her throat- that- oh, they must do something, that was _serious._

She did seem tired—Liam had instilled in him that it was apparently rude to comment on a woman’s appearance insofar as saying she looked tired—so he was mindful of his words as he offered his arm, “I could walk you to the infirmary, if you wish. Perhaps Doctor T’Perro could be of assistance?”

And then…well. He learned the horrific truth of her prognosis.

She smiled again. Putting a brave face on it, he supposed, as she said, “Lexi probably has something that can help symptom wise, but uh…as many miraculous advancements we’ve made with medical science, there’s still no cure for the common cold.”

…no…no cure.

“I…I see.”

“Hey,” she said, like gentle reprimand as she drew closer again, resting a hand on the arm he offered as she looked up into his face, “don’t look so worried—it’s fine, Jaal. I’ll feel a lot better once I’ve got some medicine in my system and lay down. You could join me if you like?”

“Of course,” he said, carefully taking her arm in his and setting a gentle pace for the Med Bay. Doctor T’Perro was kind and professional as always, she verified the prognosis with SAM, and offered her several clinking vials of medicine, and told her to have SAM send the Doctor updates as needed, and she would bring whatever the Pathfinder needed, to be comfortable.

"Doctor T'Perro, are you certain there is no cure?" he found himself asking. It felt foolish, but still, "There is nothing you've found in what we've shared of healing from Aya? Or been developed since your arrival to Andromeda?"

The woman offered him a sympathetic smile, "No, I'm sorry Jaal, but this will help with the Pathfinder's symptoms. SAM," she called, "I want an hourly update on the Pathfinder's temperature. If her fever exceeds 102° Fahrenheit, alert me at once."

_Certainly, Doctor T'Perro,_ SAM replied.

"Thanks Lexi," Laila sniffled, offering a grateful smile to the Asari.

"Of course. If you need anything, feel free to have SAM pass it along and I'll be of assistance, Pathfinder."

Whatever she needed. Before, there was nothing to be done, no great comfort he could give the woman he loved before she passed, she did so so quickly, he hadn’t even- they’d not even been in the same _system_ when she perished. Now, in some cruel bit of fate and…fortune? He'd been gifted some horrible opportunity to be there for this miraculous woman as she…

How did one even get a cold? How long had she been ill- had she been suffering and told no one?

He kept hold of her as they left the infirmary, an arm around her shoulders until they were in her quarters. She let out a sigh he felt in her frame the moment the door hissed closed. “Are you in any pain, dearest?” he worried.

“Just a little achey,” she said as she kicked off her shoes by the door.

“What aches?”

“Bit of everything, it’s okay—it’s normal,” she assured him.

Everything? “Will the medicine help?” she nodded, “Is- is there anything I can do?” he asked, “How can I help?”

“Uncap this, please?” she requested, offering up a vial of medicine, “It’s like the Initiative is paranoid, they seal this stuff up so tight.”

Oh, oh certainly, he would do anything. Even if he was not entirely certain how his tri-fingered grasp around the smallish cap with proper grip, “Of course,” he said, ahh, it worked, there was a loud _click click click snap_ as he twisted the cap off and handed it to the Human woman who smiled so gratefully up at him before gingerly draining the vial. “You’re going to lay down? Do…are you weary, my love? I would gladly assist you.”

Oh, that got him a look he thought Liam would term ‘saucy’ as she stared at him curiously, “Jaal, are you asking to undress me? Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered, but I’m not entirely…I’m really tired, I’d hate to start something I couldn’t finish, and I’m not contagious but…I mean I wouldn’t push our luck.”

He reached out, brushing back a dark curl from her face—hair, stars above they’d never met anything that had anything like it upon its person. All Humans had hair, there was so much variation Cora’s was practically white, laid smooth and tidy in fine unbending strands. Liam’s was coarser—he’d taken great offense when Jaal asked if he might touch it, mere curiosity, and now he understood that to be a grievous racial offense. But the man did come to understand Jaal meant no offense and genuinely…just had never had any experience with something like it before, and allowed him to touch it, it looked coarse, but it was soft to the touch. It had taken a while for him to realize it was alright to do such a thing as run a hand through Laila’s hair—his misstep with Liam’s hair derived from something to do with skin texture? Color, skin color. Laila was darker than Liam, he’d once been reticent to risk offending her, but she’d assured him he was permitted. It was so soft, smelled pleasantly of some sort of oil, if he ran a finger through it just so, he could watch in fascination as it passed through the length of a ringlet winding its way along his finger, and while he was gentle, there was a bit of pull when he was done that stretched the strand tauter, but the moment it was released it _bounced,_ right back into its original shape. It was entirely fascinating.

She was entirely fascinating, this woman that came from the stars. From another galaxy, listened to the plight of his people, respected their claim to their home. Brought Kett fortresses to their knees, respected his insight, his opinion above all others when it came time to make the decision to destroy the Kett fortress or save the Angara trapped within. She cared for his people, for his family. He had introduced her to as many of their numbers as he possibly could, endeavoring to make up for first impressions, he'd felt ashamed that her first introduction to her family was, as Liam called it, 'bailing out' his younger siblings of the trouble they'd gotten into while under Akksul's influence. She had nothing but open earnest love for them, Humans were often so reserved it seemed, compared to Angara but Laila seemed shameless in how freely she offered compassion, love. Even in the face of...Jaal being shot in the face, by Akksul, she respected Jaal when he asked her to trust him with handling the situation, and sympathized with him, in his hope that the Roekaar leader would see the error of his ways and return from a path of hatred...feared for him, still, oh he nearly regretted allowing Akksul shoot him if it meant her tears. There was a greater good to think of, it had shown the younglings their leader's true nature, that his cause wasn't built of love of his people, but hatred of others and those who would stand in the way of his personal agenda. But it was painful, later, more so than his injruy, when Laila looked upon his face, shook, _cried_ because she had been so very frightened to lose him. Perhaps it had been unjust to make her feel such fear, for now he was so very afraid he would lose her.

He was blessed by their time together, he would always be grateful for it. He would never regret it. Even if it truly broke his heart irreparably.

“I am. I am asking, if you would allow me to undress you,” he assured her, “there would be nothing to finish, darling one. I would just be helping you—I would likewise assist in your pajama ritual.” She slept in different clothing than that which she went about the ship in during the day. Humans had such interesting customs. Angaran armor was flexible enough, pliable—it was made to be lived in, Kett could strike at anytime, after all. It was only removed to tend injury, or to bathe. Or to lie with the one you loved.

A hand at her elbow to support her as he used the other to push her back, toward her bed, her cheeks were warm, he wasn’t sure if it was the fever or her blushing, but she smiled contently as he had her sit, pressed a kiss to her forehead, before curling his fingers up under the hem of her shirt to raise it over head, she held up her arms to assist its removal and then with the barest bit of effort he pressed his index finger to the center of her breast bone, and she laid back, quiet and watching him as he relished in this. She was always so warm, beautiful. There was nothing like her, among Angara. He traced the smooth gradient of her skin with the back of his hand, from the warm dark of her cheeks, down the slope of her neck, to where her skin did not quite see the sun so very often, lighter through the valley between her breasts, the skin of her stomach.

“Jaal?” she asked a bit breathlessly, “You uh, sure you’re not going anywhere with this?”

He hooked his thumbs onto the waistband of her trousers, considering a moment before asking, “Would you permit me to please you?”

Her mouth worked a moment, uncertain, “I- I mean I- I wouldn’t want you to um…be unsatisfied? I’m pretty wiped- I- I mean I might fall asl-“

He pulled at her waistband, trousers sliding with more ease when she raised her hips to let them pass over the curve of her bottom, He knelt at the foot of her bed, between her thighs. “I am not asking you to do anything, except lie here, and allow me to enjoy you. I would make certain you were clean, your pajama ritual complete if you fall asleep. I will stay with you, my heart. Your permission?”

She let out a bit of a laugh-ridden huff, “Uhh, granted.”

He drug her pants off over the flesh of her thighs, her calves, discarding of them in a pile with her shirt before he sat up, high on his knees so he could see the clasp on the front of her ‘bra’ it was called, practice making perfect the swift motion he used to unclasp it, she took in a breath, legs coming together to brace his hips as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the sensitive skin between her breasts, another lower, and lower, he could feel the rise of air in her lungs, as he reached the softer plane below her ribcage, trailing kisses until he met the solid white material of her lower undergarments, relishing in the gasp of air she took in when his thumbs hooked over their waistband, made contact with the flesh beneath, just over her hipbones, before making the slow drag down, down, down until she was bare for him, beautiful, breathtaking. Something to be savored and cherished, forever, he would remember this forever, he was certain.

She took a deep, shuddering breath in when he pressed his lips against her most tender flesh, her hands gripping at her blankets as he carefully licked the sensitive nub just peeking from her folds,

"J-Jaal-“

He made certain his lips stayed just where they were as he breathed out a, “Shhhhh…” something that hushed Humans but here, against her sex, sent her keening, quietly sniffling before she remembered to breathe through her mouth. His mouth continued to work, nipping, sucking the bundle of nerve endings, relishing in the sounds he could pull from this woman, making certain there was something substantial to lap at before he teased at her slick opening with his tongue.

“O-oh my god,” she breathed, swallowing a bit and then taking in a sharp breath as he pursued further still, teeth just grazing over her clitoris as his tongue dived deeper, tasting the warm sweet salt of her…nectar, he was certain that’s what it had to be, like sargania fructanis* he'd sneak on his patrols on Havarl, undeniably sweet, invigorating, Human honey, that was the only explanation. He loved it, how it tasted, just how much he could persuade her body to make, the way it let him enter her so readily when they were together, when he entered her with parts he’d leave constrained for now, though stars above, he…she had been concerned he would be unsatisfied, but the strain of his member against his armor, wanting more but going untouched, it- he felt close, would be spilling seed before he was through with her.

He pulled away, tracing his lips, tongue, slick from her, with his index and third finger, wetting them with her lubrication before planting his mouth against the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh to nip and suck, to mark with the only bruising that belonged on her body, as his hand took over the good work his mouth had just been performing, thumb circling her clit as he entered her, stroking in and up thick index finger hooking inside her to press-

“Jaal- oh, oh k-keep- ah! I-“ she swallowed, taking in a deep breath, “J-Jaal, I- c-c-can-," she had to stop, restart her sentence, grasping for coherence, "I want you inside me. Y-you. Ah!” she squeaked when his mouth returned, suckling at her opening as his hands went to press the releases on his armor, undo the clasps of his rofjinn, blue fabric falling to the floor and then the muted clatter of his suit falling away, peeling from his arms, chest, to fall back, down, and he rose up high on his knees again, hands up under her thighs and she let out a surprised little squeal as he raised her hips along with him before he carefully lowered her back down and he rose to his feet, stepping out of his armor, Laila clumsily pushing up on her forearms to scoot back on the bed so he could stand with his knees finding purchase against the top corner of the mattress.

"You’re certain?”

“P-please.”

Well, politeness was to be rewarded, he supposed. He stroked the length of his member, positioning it at her opening, reaching out just once more to ensure with a finger that came away slick and sweet when he brought it to his lips , that she was ready. he would not cause her pain, this- this was to be enjoyed.

She was so warm, wet as he entered her, sliding within her walls in a way that said he was made to be given such access, it was perfect. This, was perfect. He set a careful pace, gentle, unjarring as he started the push and pull of his hips, using the tip of a third-finger to tease at her clit.

“I- I- you can- f-faster.”

And directness, honesty were to be equally rewarded. Her legs wrapped around him as he pressed in, in, as far as her body permitted, eliciting a small almost-scream from the woman before he pulled back, and jarred his hips back into position, setting a harsher pace that left her breathless, unrelenting until her legs quivered too much to keep their hold, he leaned forward, arms on either side of her as he took her lips in his own and she climaxed around him, and he could catch her cry against his mouth.

She’d certainly woken up more than she thought she might before he started them off down this path, but she was blinking rapidly as he pulled himself from her, pressing lazy, sleepy kisses against his lips, his shoulder, “Thank you.”

Her eyes were closed, breathing already evening out before he could murmur back, “Thank you, cherished one,” and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

He had promises to keep—he retrieved a few washcloths from the Pathfinder’s things and stepped out of her quarters, and into the ships facilities, to wet them in the sink. What time was it, exactly? Gil was brushing his teeth…or at least he had been, his mouth dropped open and he stared wide eyed at Jaal. It was his understanding that staring was to be rude, had he offended the man somehow?

Ahh. Perhaps it was his state of undress, the bit of mess he had on his person. But everyone was always bare in the bathroom, entering it uncleanly, were they not? At least in some way shape or form? Jaal supposed perhaps the man had never seen _him_ naked before, Angara did have rather a different shape than most of the members of this crew. Though no shape was quite so spectacular as Drack when he took the occasional shower. It was the stuff of poetry, truth be told.

He lowered the lights in the Pathfinders quarters, it was beneficial to Humans to sleep in the absence of light, and starlight was enough to illuminate the darkness, to see.

The view from her rooms was breathtaking, but the view within? He may never breathe again, and he would die grateful of it. The Andromeda galaxy illuminating paths of starlight across his lover’s skin was a sight to behold, her body lax, expression so serene, she was never so peaceful as when she slept and even then, some nights his beloved’s brow creased with worry, breath hitching in her throat before she shot up, heart thundering in her chest as she woke from some horrible dream. But right now, she was peaceful, wholly spent and he took reverence in the act of carefully cleaning her form, dabbing the sweat from her brow, she hummed a bit when he pressed the cool cloth to her throat. Clearing her skin of sweat before going to his knees, he wasn’t certain, he’d done some study—from holovids and articles, research about Human anatomy before he ventured into bedding the Pathfinder, learned about something called Ph balance, sex itself did something to it, and he didn’t wish to do anything that might harm it so he used the second cloth he’d wet to clean slick from her folds. She stirred a bit at that, settled again, letting out a sleepy sigh, a quiet hacking cough. This…it must be draining, being ill. He found one of her night shirts, this long tattered thing that billowed out, fell to her knees—he thought it was what Humans termed a ‘dress’ when he first saw it, but Human women seemed to delight in sleeping in t-shirts that were cut to fit someone much larger than themselves, it seemed comfortable and he liked how soft the fabric was, how thin, he could always feel her warmth when she laid against him. She would be, soon, there was something else…ah! Her Rofjinn. Er, it was not exactly a Rofjinn, but it was very similar, made of likewise silken material, it was even blue, this scarf she wrapped her hair in when she slept. It did…something. He wasn’t sure. He carefully gathered her hair in hand, did his best to wrap the scarf around it the way she did…he managed it but backwards, the knot tied at her forehead instead of at the nape of her neck.

And then he pulled back the covers, thick blankets that produced far too much heat for his liking, Human bedding was practically suffocating, but they must need as much, and a ‘cold’ implied an absence of warmth. So he took her up in his arms and laid her in her bed, tucking the thick covers around her before climbing in himself on the side of the bed he left bare, and then pulling her closer, and she snuggled against him, sighing contentedly as she settled against his chest, shivering a bit, so he pulled the blankets to cover her more. It was warm, almost too much for his own comfort but he was glad of it, laying with her, being able to feel her steady heartbeat in her chest, the rise and fall of her breathing.

When would it start, he wondered? Her steady decline? He prayed it was not…a drawn out experience. Were these their final hours? Would she pass in her sleep?

He was not certain, it seemed their friends and coworkers thought she had some time left, or maybe it was a sign that the end was near—every member of the crew brought their own offerings to pay respect. Suvi dropped in to quietly check on the Pathfinder, offering her sympathies that colds were just miserable, and leaving a cool, clean glass of water and two small orange packets full of something called ‘Vitamin C’ and said that Kallo sent his regards. Although the Salarian man came by himself, alongside Gil…it seemed even as the Pathfinder hadn’t gone to have a talk to them, their leader falling prey to treacherous illness had the two setting aside their differences. They worked together to cobble together scrap parts into something they called a ‘humidifier’, filled with water that heated until it steamed to fill the room with warm, moist air, meant to help her ‘stuffy head’ and make it easier to breathe. Perhaps it was a gambit to extend her time, ease her suffering—Jaal was truly grateful, startling the pair with a bracing hug.

“Jesus,” the Human man swore, “Hey man, everything’s gonna be okay. Just a cold—any luck it’ll be over soon.”

“Ahh. Yes, I do hope her suffering is not long,” Jaal choked out, releasing his hold on them.

“Please let her know we hope she feels better,” Kallo offered politely, brushing himself off and adverting his gaze from Jaal’s lower extremities. He’d been laying with the Pathfinder when Suvi came, his lover covering his form, he supposed he should do something for his state of undress if they were to have steady visitors. When the ships engineer and pilot left he secured his Rofjinn around his waist, no one seemed to have issue with his torso, his nutrient deposits bare. How perfectly strange.

But timely, he supposed. Cora was their next visitor, dropping in and asking SAM for an update on the Pathfinder’s condition—her fever was gone, breathing unobstructed now that the humidifier had been working for some time.

“Good,” Cora said, she bore offerings of something sealed in a can, and a long white paper sleeve full of square crackers. “Saltines and Sprite—the go-to for pretty much everything, it’ll help settle her stomach,” she explained as she set them on the nightstand, placing the can on a coaster, pressing a button on the very edge of the coaster and holding it until the ring of light that circled the inner edge of the device turned blue, it would keep the beverage cool until the Pathfinder rose to consume it. If she rose to consume it.

The Krogan Drack brought something to be consumed as well—a large bottle of Human grade whisky, “I think it tastes like Drell piss, but it’ll clear her head right up, put some hair on her chest.” Ahh—that sounded like it might help her stay warm!

“That is very thoughtful, thank you,” Jaal said as the Krogan left the bottle on her nightstand.

“Yeah yeah.”

“Hey, boss lady’s sick, huh? Cold’s are a real bitch,” Peebee said when she dropped in, “wow, she’s really out, huh? Rough—it can get boring as hell when you’re too sick to do anything, so, I thought this might help,” she said, offering over a holopad she hurriedly silenced when the screen woke up and it started blaring electronic music, something upbeat that Jaal found pleasing. “Old-timey Human vid game. Ms. Pac Man.”

"I am sure it will make the time she has left pleasant, thank you.”

Peebee snorted, “Jaal, buddy, chill. It’s just a cold, she’ll be fine. Give her a few days and she’ll be running around nagging me about wearing warmer clothing to Voeld.”

Oh. Denial. He knew it well, so he nodded, he would not push the girl to grieve differently. It made him feel a little better, really, hearing someone so positive that Laila would come through this alright. Perhaps…perhaps she would. He had seen her do many a miraculous thing, perhaps being the first Human to survive the incurable Common Cold would be one of them.

Vetra was their next visitor, late in the evening, she came and said she’d heard the Pathfinder was sick, she too brought something of entertainment, some kind of contraband ‘magazine’? it was not something one put into a weapon as ammunition, it was an old, sticky-feeling paper booklet with a smiling Asari woman on the cover. And another blanket, apparently the Pathfinder didn’t have enough, would she truly grow so cold? It was called a cold after all he supposed she would begin to lose the ability to regulate her own body heat. It was soft, made of knitted material and he thanked the Turian woman, wrapped his love in the blanket before pulling her thicker covers over her once more.

Jaal could curse himself, he’d fallen asleep sometime after their Turian guest left—it was nearly 800 hours when he woke to Doctor T’Perro checking in, she had something else for the Human woman to drink—warm cinnamon tea mixed with honey, actual honey, it was meant to ‘soothe her throat’.

“Should it be administered in the event she coughs up her lungs?” Jaal wondered.

The Doctor smiled kindly, “It should help keep her from doing that, actually. If she’d like to, she can drink it when she wakes up, it will prevent coughing for a while.”

Oh…oh thank everything, the universe bless this woman—an organ ejecting itself from her body sounded like one of the most horrific symptoms, he would be eternally grateful if she was spared that aspect of this disease.

Their final visitor was Liam Kosta, bearing a tray with a covered bowl atop it,

“Chicken noodle soup—just how my mother made it. Tradition,” he explained, “basically the best thing ever when you’re sick. Whole pot of it in the kitchen if you’re interested,” the man offered. That was kind but Jaal did not think he could eat.

“You have all been so kind. I do appreciate it. I will always be grateful.”

“No problem man, happy to help,” Liam said, clapping Jaal on the shoulder before taking his leave.

Oh, perhaps there was still mercy in this universe. To his relief, Laila stirred, waking, blinking slowly as she returned to consciousness. “Mmm, something smells great,” she breathed a gentle, huffing laugh, “I can actually smell now, cool.”

He sat up, helping her to do the same, letting her rest against him for support as they sorted through her offerings, she kissed him on the cheek, thanking him for helping her into her sleep clothes, wrapping her hair up for her, though she pulled the scarf from her hair, set it aside now…Humans seemed to require wrapping when they slept, perhaps their hair was just like the rest of their body, it required wrapping to properly rest?

“I am pleased to see you wake. Are you hungry, beloved? Liam completed the chicken soup ritual for you. And Cora left an offering of Salt-ines, and…canned liquid…fae?” A sprite, she said—he had listened to a few holovids on older Human folklore, a great many of them dealt with mythical fae folk, sprites and fairies and the like. He thought them a thing of myth but apparently…

Ahh. He’d misunderstood. It was merely a carbonated beverage called Sprite for…whatever reason. Perhaps it’s creator was a fan of Human lore. Or maybe it was from some magical quality the beverage had, his love smiled after she took a sip, shivering a bit but,

“Wow, yeah, this is great,” she said as she took up a saltine to nibble on, “I might even get to eat the soup instead of just smelling it.”

“You are nauseous?” he worried.

“Little bit, but it isn’t too bad. This helps—Cora brought it? I’ll have to thank her.”

“Save your energy,” he quietly pled, “I expressed gratitude to all of our friends and comrades.”

“Everyone stopped by?” she wondered, surprised.

“Of course.”

“That was really sweet,” she said. He was pleased to see her eat so many of the crackers, all of them eventually—she broke up a great many of them into the soup. It was still warm, and he was tempted to offer feeding her but he worried it might be insulting—she’d still the strength to do so herself and it was wonderful to see her enjoy it, draining the bowl entirely.

“Jesus, I’m going to have to pee,” she laughed when she saw how many of her offerings were beverages he insisted she drink—the tea, especially, it would prevent so much harm to her body before the end.

“I will help you,” he promised. He would carry her to the lavatory if she needed it.

She snorted, almost laughing at him as she first accepted what Suvi had left for her, seeming enthusiastic about the Vitamin C, it smelled like citrus, this powder the packets produced, pouring it into the glass of water the Scientist had provided. She thought it was sweet that Drack brought her whisky but she turned down his offer to open it, she'd prefer not to drink, but it was kind of the Krogan to think of her. She drained the glass of water before Jaal could get her to at least sip at her tea, he was not certain why she would prefer violently losing a vital organ over going to the restroom.

Perhaps it was the prospect of having to get out of bed. She laid there until the point the urgency of the need to pee had her jostling her legs to quell the sensation, and then she sighed and sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and rising slowly, sluggish. Jaal was on his feet in the next instant and she squeaked when he swept her up into his arms,

“Jaal!”

“You are weary, dearest one—please, let me help you.”

She giggled. Oh, the sound made his heart sing. “You’re crazy, you know that?" she asked as he carried her from the room, "At least put me down and let me use the restroom on my own, alright? Girl could use a little privacy,” she said, sounding bemused.

He did as she requested though he worried, waiting in the corridor for her to return, what if she fell or needed help? She seemed no worse for wear when she returned to him, and he took her up again, carrying her back to bed,

“It’s like almost ten," she immediately argued, "I should check in with everyone, I still have work-“

“Absolutely not," surely the Initiative would not expect her to work under such circumstances? "You must rest, please.”

_Pathfinder,_ SAM’s voice filled her quarters, _your lover’s advice is sound. You have been given sick leave by Doctor T’Perro, the Nexus is quiet, and everyone is resuming their regular duties as normal, there is nothing that needs your oversight at the moment._

She sighed, but nodded. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, SAM,” she said, and then she snuggled against Jaal as they settled back into her bed, “Thank you, seriously.”

“You are more than welcome. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Tired still, it’s crazy.”

“Rest, I will stay with you.”

“You don’t have to, I mean this has to be getting boring-“

"Nonsense. I am pleased to stay with you,” he would not leave her, not while he could still have her.

They lazed a great deal of the day, she slept for most of it, although she did show him the wonder that was Ms. Pac Man—it was a strange game, but admittedly fun.

She wished to shower, said she felt like a ‘swamp person’. So many interesting people in the universe, but he summised there was something unpleasant about being one from a swamp if it meant you must cleans yourself thoroughly from head to toe in scalding hot water. But the water was soothing, to even Jaal’s muscles, and there was something captivating about watching the woman bathe…water, fresh smelling soap, the process of working product into her hair, she let him help, sighing contentedly as he massaged her scalp, it seemed to relax her and he delighted in the bit of work, being allowed to run his fingers through the soft, silken locks—he was even allowed to participate in her hair oiling ritual, he was truly honored, it did seem like something sacred she might not ordinarily seek outside assistance with.

It did make him bold enough to finally voice the question as to just what her Rofjinn was for—it was to retain moisture! Other materials apparently dried out hair! That did not sound very pleasant at all, he was relieved to have wrapped it, he had seen what happened when drought struck plantlife, leaves withering and dying, falling off, it would be truly horrible for such a thing to befall her-

It…it was befalling her. It was only a matter of time, he supposed.

She was resting against him, slowly drifting off to sleep, but she- she had to know,

“My brilliant one?” he prompted quietly, rubbing her arm, holding her as close as he possibly could. She hmmed contentedly, stirring a bit as tilted her head upward as if to assure him she was listening, “You are the most incredible being I have ever come to know. It has been an honor to be with you, this is love I shall carry all of my days. I have never loved any, as I have come to love you, please, know that.”

She sat up a bit, propping up on her forearm against his chest as she looked down at him, expression grave as she regarded him cautiously, “…that’s a lot of past tense there, honey. Are…” she bit her lip and sat up, away from him, on her knees and he followed suit, sitting up- why- why did she seek distance? Oh no, her eyes glistened with unshed tears she- what had he done? He hadn't meant- “are you breaking up with me?”

Oh! “No! No, of course not, my heart I- I would stay with you for all of my days if the universe saw fit to bless me in such a way. I would cherish you always, it is an honor to be loved by you, I would not give that up for the galaxy.”

Her brow furrowed at that, tears receding but she looked a little overwhelmed, “Okay, you’re kind of sending some mixed signals here babe. Now it sounds like you’re proposing…”

“Proposing?”

She smiled…in the way where she caught a bit of miscommunication, trying to hide that smile behind her hand because she found herself a bit too amused by it and didn’t wish to hurt his feelings, “Marriage, Jaal.”

Oh, oh his heart ached. He had wondered at the prospect, asking that she would join in union with him, Angara had many such traditions similar to the Human concept of Marriage. When he informed his True Mother he was courting one, she’d sought information from the Initiative, been given access to old holovids on the topic and become enraptured by the tale of some such show dedicated to the topic…er…what was it called? ‘I will consent to this specific ornate wedding costume.’ Women seeking a dress to wear for their ceremony and bringing their elders and peers to review the choices with her…usually resulting in a great amount of yelling and crying—his True Mother found it fascinating and horrifying and vowed to him if he ever pursued such a thing with Laila, it would be her honor to endure these strange cultural machinations on her fallen mother’s behalf. His first date with the Pathfinder, for a meal of nutritive paste and a stroll around Aya, the woman had worn a dress. It was a ‘sundress’ she called it when he asked about it, it was not white but it was a very pale blue, and he worried perhaps she had misunderstood his intention, that he’d accidentally initiated some sort of union rites—she assured him he had not, as beautiful as he found her garb, it was apparently ‘ _so_ not a wedding dress’. Though someday, yes, he might...he had wanted that of their future, to see her in such a dress, for them to be united. The...the idea that they might one day...Laila was a compassionate woman, had a gentleness to her care of others, especially the younger Angara she'd met. He'd been afforded the opportunity to see her with his Brothers and Sisters offspring when last she visited his home, and it'd wholly taken his breath away, the feverish thought that she might someday wish to have a child with him, create precious life together. No such attempt had been made, but as far as they could tell Humans and Angara may well be compatible, procreation, gestation, birth, they were all almost uniformly similar between the races save for size and number, Angara birthed up to four small offspring at once, whereas Humans produced usually one...though Laila, when discussing the topic with his True Mother had revealed she was in fact a 'twin', her mother had produced not just one large human child, but two! At the same time! It marked Laila genetically with the probability she would likewise produce more than one child at a time which...it seemed almost too much a coincidence he would find such love, with someone so perfectly compatible, even bridging the gap in differences where they lay with her inherent genetics something she had no control over—like someone in another galaxy had crafted this woman specifically to be what felt like Jaal's beating heart, sent her across time and space to unite them. Once she was of a mind to do so, reverse the procreation blockers the Initiative used...

It had been a pleasant dream. He would be grateful always, for the reality he'd been given thus far. 

He swallowed, pulling her close to him once more as he laid back, and took pause to note the thrum of her heart against his side. “I would gladly be united with you the whole of our lives, should such a thing be meant to be.”

“…so…definitely not proposing right now? I’m not saying I’m disinterested, just uh…the timing-“

“Of course, love of my heart—I understand. I did not mean to make it sound as if I were breaking ties or pursuing eternal union, I just…need you to know how very dear you are to me.”

“I love you too,” she assured, sweetly, “You are an amazing, incredible man, I…definitely wasn’t looking for love when I started this whole, ‘new galaxy, Pathfinder’ thing,” she huffed a laugh, “and I ended up finding the absolute love of my life. You’ve been amazing these last few days, Jaal. I mean I’ve had boyfriends who just gave me complete radio silence whenever I was sick—in the 10th grade, Ricky Chavez _pushed me_ away by my face because I had a stuffy head and he didn’t want to risk catching something before midterms. He was a jerk and a dork.”

He did not like this Rickey character at all, though a smile did quirk at his lips, “You have said that I am a dork.”

"Yeah but _you_ , are a sexy, kind, amazing dork.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her head.

It was morning, when it happened.

He woke, startled to find the Pathfinder missing- he- he had not meant to fall asleep-

“SAM?!” he called out, alarmed, had she…had she passed? Had Doctor T’Perro taken her away already? He- Surely they would have woken him?!

_Good morning, Mister Ama Darav. The Pathfinder is in the Galley, eating breakfast. Today’s breakfast is oatmeal and buttered toast, with a selection of coffee, water, or orange juice as a choice of beverage. We will be at the Nexus in the 48 hours, 47 minutes._

Jaal didn’t much care, he lunged from the bed, into the Galley, Liam and Cora were leaning against the counter with Drack, Peebee and Suvi seated alongside the Pathfinder in the booth surrounding the little table in the corner, she smiled up at him as he entered.

“Morning handsome, you okay?” she asked, looking a bit concerned. He was admittedly catching his breath, he- oh he was so relieved, there was still time!

“Of course," he breathed, "How are you feeling?”

“Great!” she informed him cheerily, “All better, thanks.”

“…all…all better?” he asked. it was foolish to dare even hope but-

“Yeah. Cold’s all gone, Lexi and SAM gave me a clean bill of health when I woke up. Thanks so much for all your help- oh!” she cried out surprised when he rushed her, pulling her out of her seat to hoist her high, hugging her fiercely,

“You- you are better? Truly?” he asked, oh- oh he daren't believe, but-

“Yeah babe,” she said laughingly, looking albeit confused.

“It is a miracle!” he declared it, and she blushed looking a bit out of depth when he kissed her so fiercely, so openly but he- he could hardly contain himself! When he did finally pull away, his face ached he was smiling so very wide, but, “My miraculous one!" he declared her, "Is there _anything_ you are incapable of?”

“Uhhh…honey, it was just a cold. It really wasn’t a big deal, but I appreciate you being so sweet, taking care of me.”

"Laila, it- it was hardly ‘no big deal’ it- there is no cure for such a disease, and yet you’ve beaten it-!“

“Ohhhh my god,” she breathed, pulling back and looking down at him from where he held her to his chest,, wide eyed, mouth working a bit as she sought her words and then, “Oh, oh honey. Jaal, sweetheart, did…did you think I was _dying?”_

… “It was incurable, you said—Doctor T’Perro confirmed.”

“Um, colds really aren’t that serious, I mean they suck and there’s nothing you can just take and ‘wham! All better’ it’s just a minor illness you have to let run its course and then it’s all good. It…it wasn’t terminal or anything, really.”

…

“Ahh.”

There was a strangled sound from behind him—Liam, choking momentarily before he allowed himself to burst with laughter, loud and uncontrollable, joined by Cora who tried to hide her mirth, covering her mouth with her hand, Peebee screamed with her own joviality as Suvi giggled until her laughter sent her snorting.

Laila bit her lip, trying to suppress an amused smile as she offered, “I’m so so so so sorry, really I swear I didn’t realize the miscommunication I- oh- oh you poor thing, I’m really sorry.”

He wasn’t, he threw his head back, laughter pouring up from his throat as he hugged her tighter still. She was alive! And safe and alright! Colds- colds weren’t serious! This was incredible! Oh, he could not be more grateful, he- he wasn’t going to lose her! Not to this, not to anything but time, if he had a say in it.

Though his time...may be shortened. By his True Mother.

"...I would appreciate if you would join me for a call home to mother. She may...be quietly preparing mourning rites."

Laila's mouth dropped open, looking up at him incredulously, "Jaal! You told your mother I was _dying?!"_

" _You_ told me colds were incurable. I have been in mourning and consulted my True mother for comfort."

"Oh honey," Laila pouted, pressing a kiss to his lips, "I'm sorry, really. If I thought for a minute you were under such a drastic impression I would've corrected it immediately.“

“Mate, hell, we didn’t realize you were mourning, shit,” Liam consoled, “Why didn’t you come to us? We would've set you straight. And if it _had_ been something serious you know we'd be there for you, right?”

“…you came to us. I perceived your gift-bearing to be offering final comforts to your leader and friend.”

“Dude. Lai ever actually gets some kind of dread illness, you realize we’d all be losing our minds? No way you’d be having ‘I think you’re dying se-,” he cleared his throat, “Gil didn’t say anything,” he insisted…a lie. “If there wasn’t anything Med Bay could do, we’d be piled in there with you.”

Peebee gasped excitedly, _“We think you’re dying group sex!”_

"We are not having group sex!” Cora insisted, blushing fiercely.

“We finally having group sex?” Drack asked as he entered the galley, picking his teeth with a splintered bone…he- they- where had he gotten a bone? As far as Jaal could tell the only thing the Galley was meal made of oats. Jaal enjoyed them. They did not have bones.

“Only if I’m dying, of course,” Laila supplied simply.

The Krogan grinned, growling out appreciatively _, “Nice.”_

Jaal appreciated his friends, comrades. They were kind, and he realized he could have gone to them for comfort, should have aired his worries. He was grateful for these people, and he was grateful, that the Common Cold, while incurable, was somehow not life-threatening.

…he was admittedly even more so grateful, to learn that Colds were nothing so serious, because several days later, he himself felt the incurable illness’s effects. He had indeed, contracted Ryder’s cold.

“I am so, so sorry,” she apologized for the tenth time since she’d learned he was unwell, curled up with him in his own bedding in his laboratory.

He sniffled, his face and nutrient deposits blaring bioluminescense, “It is fine. I- I am not even sick,” he objected.

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say honey.”

He was in absolute perfect health!

Though he did come to learn the unpleasant experience that was ‘coughing up a lung’ it, likewise, was nothing quite so serious as its description. Human’s flair for the dramatic was honestly a bit too much, they really shouldn’t exaggerate so. Though, admittedly, the description was almost fair, coughing was wholly unpleasant.

Sneezing, however, was indeed the worst.

**Author's Note:**

> End Notes:  
> *If you talk to Jaal on the ship eventually you can have a conversation about past love interests. He fell in love with an older girl who ended up marrying his Brother (cousin? Angaran family systems are multiple families living as one, where aunts and uncles are considered 'mothers and fathers' to all the children running around, and cousins are considered just as much brother and sister as those born from the same two parents) she later died from illness*.
> 
> *^Whoops! So, I haven't played in forever, and going into this fic I truly did remember Jaal saying his first love died of illness, however I also had to Google 'Mass Effect Andromeda ship name' when writing about the Tempest, so, my memory's not the best. For the purposes of this fic, Jaal's first love interest passed of illness, this is not necessarily canon compliant! So, enjoy some fanon for the purposes of angst.
> 
> *Sneezing conversation happens between Jaal and Cora, usually when you're driving around Voeld (that's always where it's happened for me, though I think I did hear it transpire on Kadara once when I took Liam instead of Jaal for the portion of Cora's loyalty quest that takes place on Voeld) it's just a random companion conversation that happens as you travel, where Jaal asks Cora what using her biotics feels like, if it's painful or not, and she tells him at most it can feel like letting off a really big sneeze, to which Jaal responds with awe and understanding, "Ahh..." and then, "what is a sneeze?"
> 
> *FTL is Faster Than Light technology, the Tempest travels up to 13 Lightyears a day
> 
> *Sargania fructanis is a plant native to Havarl, it produces a red syrup that carries a high sugar content, with strong pigment that stains anything it touches.


End file.
